A Spark in the Grandeur of Space
by ttchaku
Summary: AU after Skeleton Key “Believe me,” he said, “it would be better if we didn’t meet again. Go back to school. Go back to your life. And the next time they ask you, say no. Killing is for grownups and you’re still a child.”
1. Prologue: Contemplation

**A Spark in the Grandeur of Space**

**Prologue: Contemplation**

**Disclaimer:** On the new book that just came out, did anyone see my name anywhere on it…no didn't think so.

**A/N:** My first Alex Rider story. It takes place right after Skeleton Key. Also there is a lot of bastardized scientific information throughout the story, though not in this chapter. I'm researching it, but will be stretching some things to the point of implausibility to those, who, um, know these things. To everyone else who don't have a masters in science, please let me know if it edges into insanity and I'll reel it back in. Please review with any comments, criticism, or suggestions. Thanks.

**Summary:** (AU after Skeleton Key) _"Believe me," he said, "it would be better if we didn't meet again. Go back to school. Go back to your life. And the next time they ask you, say no. Killing is for grownups and you're still a child."_

* * *

"There are no accidents, only nature throwing her weight around. Even the bomb merely releases energy that nature has put there. Nuclear war would be just a spark in the grandeur of space. Nor can radiation ''alter'' nature: she will absorb it all. After the bomb, nature will pick up the cards we have spilled, shuffle them, and begin her game again."

- Camille Paglia

* * *

"_You killed Ian Rider," Alex said. "He was my uncle."_

_Yassen shrugged. "I kill a lot of people."_

"_One day I'll kill you."_

"_A lot of people have tried." Yassen smiled. "Believe me," he said, "it would be better if we didn't meet again. Go back to school. Go back to your life. And the next time they ask you, say no. Killing is for grownups and you're still a child."_

**I**t was the best advice he'd ever been given.

However, reflecting on his previous relationships with murdering sociopaths and well, adults in general, it was no surprise that he'd never taken it.

As a fourteen-year-old spy, Alex Rider often paused during his many death-defying escapades including a swim with a Portuguese Man of War; a snowboard trip down a gunmen-ridden slope; and a close brush with nuclear detonation and wondered how the bloody hell he managed to get himself into these sorts of situations. Then he reminded himself that it might be better for his mental health to not think about it. At all.

Because, then, you know, he'd have to start wondering how he'd ended up in the States hanging upside in a lead vent praying for a contract killer and a SAS agent to rescue him before a stream of highly ionized radiation spurted down the vent scrambling his DNA into oblivion.

In the very least, he hoped that death by ionized radiation was painless…but somehow he didn't think so.

**T**o **B**e **C**ontinued…


	2. Growth

**A Spark in the Grandeur of Space**

**Growth**

**Disclaimer:** On the new book that just came out, did anyone see my name on it…no didn't think so.

**A/N:** My first Alex Rider story. It takes place right after Skeleton Key. Also there is a lot of bastardized scientific information throughout the story, though not in this chapter. I'm researching it, but will be stretching some things to the point of implausibility to those, who, um, know these things. To everyone else who don't have a masters in science, please let me know if it edges into insanity and I'll reel it back in. Please review with any comments, criticism, or suggestions. Thanks for all the reviews.

**Summary:** (AU after Skeleton Key)_"Believe me," he said, "it would be better if we didn't meet again. Go back to school. Go back to your life. And the next time they ask you, say no. Killing is for grownups and you're still a child."_

* * *

"Incidentally, disturbance from cosmic background radiation is something we have all experienced. Tune your television to any channel it doesn't receive, and about 1 percent of the dancing static you see is accounted for by this ancient remnant of the Big Bang. The next time you complain that there is nothing on, remember that you can always watch the birth of the universe." 

– Bill Bryson

* * *

**I**t was true that Alex Rider was often being rushed places against his will. He usually didn't appreciate it. Of course more often than not these people were trying to rush him to his death which, naturally, was disturbing. At the moment though, he was distinctly aware of another phenomenon- people trying to get away from him and they couldn't do it fast enough. The soldiers who had picked him up had reacted badly when he told them about the bomb (And honestly, what was he supposed to do? Pretend it wasn't there?) and then the driver in the car that had picked him had pointedly rolled up the glass window between them. 

Still in Russia after the disastrous affair with General Sarov, Alex was taken to a MI6 owned hospital nearby where he was summarily stripped; thrust under a very cold shower that smelled strongly of disinfectant; and rather impersonally scrubbed. Everywhere. Much to his embarrassment and reluctance.

When the horrifying process had finally been completed, he was given a roomy pair of slacks and a plain white tee. Yanking up the pants and slipping the shirt over his head while still absently rubbing his wet hair with a bleached towel, he followed his overly enthusiastic nurse out of the shower-room and to a smaller one. This one, a dull grey colored, contained a bed and a small, undistinguished night stand. There was a chair next to the bed and in it was Ms. Jones – the head of special operations at MI6.

Frowning, Alex dropped the towel on the floor (the nurse tutted and strode from the room, shutting it louder than necessary) and cautiously approached the bed. He knew it was too good to be true, but he was _tired_. The day had been eventful and painful enough to last a lifetime and somehow he didn't think that Ms. Jones was going to offer him a vacation package to the Bermudas (Not that he'd take it- he knew what happened on MI6 sanctioned "vacations" now). Sullenly, Alex scowled at the women and closed his eyes briefly, hoping that when he had opened them he would find Ms. Jones to be an illusion of his particularly masochistic mind.

Of course, when was the last time he'd gotten what he wanted?

"Alex," Ms. Jones said suddenly, startling Alex out of his momentary reverie. "Please come in. You should get into bed. I'm sure you're tired."

Alex perched on the edge of his bed, refusing to relax. "What's wrong," he asked suspiciously.

Ms. Jones looked taken aback and then, frowning slightly, she unwrapped a peppermint. Contemplating it silently for several seconds, she finally asked, "Do you have any information on Sarov's contacts? We need to know where he bought the bomb." She hesitated for another moment and then, probingly: "I understand that he had an…attachment to you?" Her voice lilted up on the tail end of the sentence, leaving it open for Alex to answer.

Alex schooled his face into neutrality. Then glibly, he answered, "Not really. He was insane and I was, no matter how he_ thought _he saw in me, an obstacle. He never told me anything until he was sure I couldn't escape. And when I managed to anyway, he refused to tell me anything more. I thought he had funding from his supporters in Russia though. I suppose they could have supplied the bomb."

Ms. Jones smoothed out her pantsuit. "Yes, well, we've recently received some suspicious data. His supporters weren't Russian. We believe they're a private organization. Exactly four hours ago when the bomb should have gone off, some intelligence agencies, including our own, noticed a trace in their systems. They think that our computers were hacked into. But the hacker was an expert; no one can determine what was looked at. In fact, we're still looking into it. These computers hold information about intelligence missions, nuclear facilities, state secrets, and…" Ms. Jones paused for an instant to smooth her pantsuit out again and with a start, Alex realized it was a nervous gesture. "the names of all agents and their current status."

Alex looked up, surprised. "I thought I wasn't on any lists. I'm not supposed to exist."

Ms. Jones shook her head. "We had to list you after we found out that the Americans knew of you. There's no point to pretending that you're a secret if most of the intelligence world knows of you. You're listed under a codename, but it wouldn't be difficult, if one was…creative enough, to find out your real name."

Alex swallowed nervously, insistently not thinking about how creative some people could get. "What does this mean for me -" He thought for another second. "Do Jack and I have to leave? What will -"

Ms. Jones cut him off. "We will provide protection for you and Jack, Alex. But, first, we'll need your help. Sarov may have information at his base about his supporters and you're the only one who's been there. We need you to go back in and help our team gather any information possible to solve this…setback."

Alex wanted to scoff at the word "setback" but didn't dare. This had, all too suddenly, gotten far too close and personal for Alex and at a time when, more than ever, Alex wanted a clear, firm distance between his life as a spy and his life as a fourteen-year-old schoolboy. Somehow, the revelation that someone out there, somebody most likely evil beyond belief, had his name and probably his address and most likely access into the country was worse than dodging bullets or putting his life in danger.

It was…_creepy_.

This wasn't just about him or the tireless manipulations that the MI6 put him through anymore. If these people had his name, then they had Jack's name; they had where he when to school; they knew who his classmates were and which teachers he liked and which neighbors he helped weed their lawns on the weekends. They knew _him_.

No, this wasn't just about the MI6 anymore; it was personal and he couldn't risk that.

"Sure," Alex said, "I'll do it."

**T**o **B**e **C**ontinued…


	3. Complexity

**A Spark in the Grandeur of Space**

**Complexity**

**Disclaimer:** On the new book that just came out, did anyone see my name on it…no didn't think so.

**A/N:** My first Alex Rider story. It takes place right after Skeleton Key. Also there is a lot of bastardized scientific information throughout the story, though not in this chapter. I'm researching it, but will be stretching some things to the point of implausibility to those, who, um, know these things. To everyone else who don't have a masters in science, please let me know if it edges into insanity and I'll reel it back in. Please review with any comments, criticism, or suggestions. Thanks.

**Summary:** (AU after Skeleton Key)_"Believe me," he said, "it would be better if we didn't meet again. Go back to school. Go back to your life. And the next time they ask you, say no. Killing is for grownups and you're still a child."_

* * *

The double law of attraction and radiation or of sympathy and antipathy, of fixedness and movement, is the principle of Creation, and the perpetual cause of life." – Albert Pike

* * *

**A**lex had already suited up and was standing grimly by the outgoing truck by the time Ms. Jones walked outside with the group of men he was going to be leading into Sarov's compound. Then he _saw_ who he would be leading into Sarov's compound.

Alex made a low noise of uneasiness. "Really now," he muttered. "Them?" he asked under his breath, not actually meaning to be heard.

Apparently, though, the SAS took classes in specialized hearing or something because while Ms. Jones didn't notice, the members of the K-unit, Wolf, Fox, Snake, and Eagle all looked at him curiously. Their faces were an impressive blank, though Wolf looked faintly annoyed.

As they reached the truck, Alex pushed himself off it and stood straight. Ms. Jones looked him over and nodded in approval. He was wearing all black with night-gear though he still didn't have a weapon. Alex couldn't even bring himself to be worked up over the injustice of that; this was too important.

"Alright," Ms. Jones said, "This truck is going to take you all to a private runway three miles east. A jet will take you to Cuba where you'll parachute into the compound under the cover of darkness. Alex, you'll brief the men on the compound beforehand. When you land, split up and bag anything of importance including hard copies and data chips. Alex, you'll be responsible for the camera. Take pictures of anything that looks important or of significance. Remember that we only have one chance to do this and the slightest mistake could cost lives." At this, Ms. Jones eyed Alex surreptitiously. Handing Alex a small, high powered camera, she continued, "Wolf has your extraction details. He's in charge." This was definitely said for Alex's benefit.

Alex nodded in acquiescence and following K-Unit's lead, he hopped into the truck, sitting on the hard wooden bench at the very end as far from the rest of K-Unit as he could. Ms. Jones frowned as she watched them arrange themselves and called Wolf over. They had a short discussion, mostly consisting of Ms. Jones talking and Wolf nodding and then Wolf hopped back into the truck and banged on the side to get the driver moving.

As they started down the bumpy road, Alex felt several eyes on him. He leaned his head back and breathed deeply. He hadn't truly rested for over a day now. First he was too worried about Sarov and then the bomb and now this…he couldn't be tired- if wasn't on top of his game, someone might get hurt.

Alex made himself open his eyes again. He could see the other members of the K-unit glance away as he looked at them. Frowning to himself, he resolutely closed his eyes. He wasn't going to let them annoy him.

Closing his eyes had been a bad idea.

When he finally opened them he was slumped against a plane side, subconsciously vibrating along with the moving plane. He could hear the wind rushing by the plane at a fast clip and when he blearily rubbed his eyes open wider, he saw that everyone was sitting on two wooden benches, readying their parachutes. Rubbing his dry throat, Alex stood up, wobbling slightly.

"Oh good, you're up," Fox said amiably, "We thought we're going to have to wake you."

"How did…" Alex started, unsure. He felt clammy and sweaty.

Fox gave him an embarrassed grin. "Snake carried you in. You looked so tired…we figured that it might be best to let you get a bit more sleep. Let me help you with your parachute. Once everyone's ready, we'll debrief."

Still overtired, Alex numbly let Fox strap his parachute on without saying or doing anything except moving his arms where Fox told him too and trying not to wince too much. He had no idea that he was so tired. Even his small injuries seemed to be hurting far more than before and his lower stomach, where he hadn't even been hit, was starting to cramp. Maybe he was nervous? This had never happened before.

"I feel," Alex started again, his tongue numb, "a little off." he slurred.

Fox finally looked at him and frowned. Alex's eyes were hazy and red-tinged. His face was oddly slack and body limp. Eyeing him, Fox called Wolf over.

Wolf and Fox conferred quietly for a few minutes before Wolf knelt in front of Alex, tilting his head towards the dim light. "Cub," he said, and then he said it again, a little more forcefully when Alex didn't respond. "Cub, are you alright?"

By now everyone else had heard and were crowding around Alex. "His eyes are dilated. Something's wrong." Eagle said, pursing his mouth. He lightly slapped Alex's cheek, but got no response.

Alex felt woozy and the words of the K-Unit were coming in like an out-of-tune radio. Every time he thought he heard and understood a question fired by a member of the K-unit and opened his mouth to respond, they had already moved on to another one. Finally Wolf shushed them all.

"Cub, did the medics give you anything for pain or some medication that might have made you sick?" Wolf asked.

Alex shook his head faintly. "I…no…wha-" he murmured. Finally he got out: "hurt…"

Wolf shook his head and helped lay Alex prone on the hard bench. Listening to Alex's harshening breaths, he said, "I think he's been poisoned." Wolf started searching for an injection point on his arms, but it was Eagle finally pointed it out.

"Here, look," he said softly, pulling down Alex's turtleneck sweater. "someone injected what ever it was right into his artery."

"Get the med kit," Wolf rasped, slipping off the parachute and pulling off Alex's shirt despite Alex's mumbled protests. "Get the fucking-"

Suddenly Alex groaned and clutched his lower stomach, greenish vomit spewing out off his mouth laced with blood. Wolf flinched and then stepped forward, and pulled Alex onto his side. Alex began moaning in pain and convulsing.

"WHERE'S THE-"

"Here," Fox said more calmly than he felt, "what do you think it is?"

"Something we have a cure for," Wolf said roughly. "Get me the Dimercaprol."

"That could make him worse if it's not arsenic!" Snake hissed.

"You got a better idea?" Wolf muttered, pulling the caps off two needles and grabbing Alex's arms. "Hold him still. This is painful enough without him shaking and making me miss the muscle."

Eagle, Fox, and Snake gathered around to hold Alex's convulsing form down. Wolf quickly injected the Dimercaprol into his arm muscle. Within a few minutes, Alex's convulsions slowed down to minute shudders. Slowly the members of the K-Unit let the small boy go. He moaned in pain and Fox reached out and stopped him from rolling into his own vomit.

Wolf stood up abruptly, wiping the vomit off his hands. "Monitor his blood pressure." he told Fox, "Make sure it doesn't spike too high. Give him another injection in fifteen minutes and if the convulsions start up again, every half-an-hour. I have to remap the plan. Cub can't come with us now."

As he strode away, Fox lifted a shivering Cub and moved him to another bench away from the mess and began taking his blood pressure. Meanwhile, Eagle caught up to Wolf who was sitting next to a table with several maps spread over it.

"So someone really doesn't want this kid talking, huh? They poisoned a little kid to keep him from showing us around Sarov's compound? This is bigger than we thought." Eagle muttered softly.

"The kid can handle himself." Wolf said dryly. "What worries me is that the arsenic could have only been injected by a few people: the people at the flight pad or…"

"One of us," Eagle muttered pensively.

"Yeah," Wolf said, staring at the maps but not really paying attention. "Yeah," he said again, "That's what worries me."

**T**o **B**e **C**ontinued…


End file.
